


You Know What I Need

by doctorbuffypotterlock79



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race (US) RPF
Genre: F/F, Lesbian AU, Sick Fic, just pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:55:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29803236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorbuffypotterlock79/pseuds/doctorbuffypotterlock79
Summary: Denali is sick, and Rosé takes care of her
Relationships: Denali Foxx/Rosé
Comments: 12
Kudos: 54





	You Know What I Need

**Author's Note:**

> So I’ve really started to enjoy Rosenali and wanted to try my hand at writing a little fluff fic with them. I’m not sure if I’ll write them again, but I hope you enjoy, and I’d appreciate any feedback you have! I also have some new Branjie stuff that should be coming hopefully soon!
> 
> Thank you to Writ for beta-ing and being so encouraging!
> 
> Title from Gimme What I Want by Miley Cyrus.

Rosé rolls over, wondering why it’s so damn _hot_ in the bed. She barely even has any blankets on her. There’s a sharp cough to her right, and Rosé realizes the heat is coming from her blanket-stealing girlfriend. Denali is curled up on her side, dark hair damp with sweat and cheeks bright red. 

“Denali?” 

Denali just groans and burrows deeper into the mattress. It’s odd enough that she’s still in bed—Denali usually rose with the sun for a quick workout and would be eating fruit by the time Rosé dragged herself out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen, craving coffee and cursing the sun and threatening to buy blackout curtains—but the fact that she looks so miserable, so unlike her cheerful self, sparks the first bit of worry in Rosé’s chest. 

That worry ignites as Rosé presses a gentle hand to Denali’s forehead, cringing at the heat. 

“Nali, my love, you’re burning up. You better stay home today.” 

“I’m not sick. I have skating practice today,” Denali says. She tries to get up, but Rosé gently pushes her back down on the pillows, and the fact that Rosé didn’t even have to work to push a triple black belt down brings the buzz of worry closer to a full panic. 

“Not with a fever you don’t,” Rosé says, heading for the bathroom. 

“I don’t have a f—“ Thermometer shoved under her tongue, Denali could only shoot a glassy glare and swing a sluggish arm at Rosé, making her even more adorable in Rosé eyes, like an angry kitten. 

“101,” Rosé announces. “You’re staying in bed today.” 

“Rosie, I can’t,” Denali says, a little firmer, a little more like herself. “I have the competition in three weeks.” 

Rosé sighs. The competition is a big one, one Denali has been training for for months. Her practice routine is important to her, as unchanging as the sun. Denali loves the sound of her skates scraping across the ice, loves the repetition and smooth turns, loves the warm baths Rosé helps her into after. She never misses a day of practice, every second on that ice used to make her the best she can be. And despite knowing nothing about skating, Rosé knows from the hours inside freezing skating arenas, clapping for her girlfriend with numb hands, that Denali is the best. But there’s no way she can practice today. 

“Baby, if you go out there, the only thing you’ll be practicing is how to pass out on the ice. I don’t want you to get hurt, okay? You need to rest a few days so you can get better, and then you’ll be spinning and axe-ing all over.” 

“It’s _axel_ -ing, Rosie.” Denali raises an eyebrow. She’s still pouting, and she’s shivering a little, but if she’s teasing Rosé, she might have accepted that she’s not practicing. 

“Does that mean you’ll stay home today?” 

Denali sighs. “Yes.” 

“And you’ll let me take care of you?” 

Another sigh. “Yes.” 

Rosé gives her a forehead kiss and runs to the kitchen, only to realize that she doesn’t really know how to take care of a sick person. Sick people need fluids, right? She vaguely remembers that being a thing. And soup. But it’s too early for soup. Does she need a special kind of medicine?

Rosé sighs, desperate for how to best help Denali. She could give her Tylenol and just let her sleep it off—Rosé’s personal method for dealing with illness—but she wants to really take care of Denali, make her feel better. Rosé’s sister Jan got sick a lot when they were kids, and Rosé remembers the jealousy of watching her curl up on the couch with stuffed animals and toast and all the cartoons she could watch while Rosé had to shuffle off to school with half-finished homework, her theatrical fake coughs always dismissed by their mom. 

Plan set, she throws bread in the toaster and helps Denali to their couch, heart heavy as she winces with the movement. It hurts Rosé to see Denali like this, having to lean on her to stay steady when she’s normally so sure-footed, but it’s nice, in a way, to take care of her when she’s normally so stubborn and insistent on caring for herself. Nice to know that Denali trusts her like this, going easily where Rosé’s gentle hands guide her. 

Rosé heads back to the kitchen and returns with toast, water, and pills, which she hands to Denali, standing over her while she takes them. 

“You don’t have to be a nursemaid, you know. I basically live in a public locker room at a skating rink. You have no idea what goes on in there. I’ll be fine.” 

Denali's right--and Rosé's heard the locker room horror stories--but she can't stop the part of her that just wants to make Denali better, keep her safe. “I know, I just … I wanna take care of you and stuff.” The caretaker role is a new one, but if Denali’s smile is any indication, maybe it’s one she’s slipping into with ease, the way Denali slips into sweaters stolen from Rosé’s dresser. 

“Well, you can take care of me by sitting with me.” Denali points to the end of the couch. “And we’re watching Disney movies.” 

Rosé rolls her eyes. “You like cartoons too much.” But she settles herself on the couch, Denali’s blanket-covered feet in her lap. 

“Like you didn’t put red paint in your hair when you were five because you wanted to be Ariel.” 

Rosé blushes, burying her face in her hands. “Jan told you that, didn’t she? Just wait till I show Jackie those pictures from her purple phase.” 

Denali snorts, fiddling with the remote and starting _Hercules_. She’s fast asleep shortly after Hercules is born, and Rosé watches over her, taking in her soft cheeks and angelic face, and knows she’ll always take care of her.


End file.
